Ford Focus 2.0

Ford Focus 2.0 rear view

Here is the Ford Focus that I was lent, but these are not the film shots, just low-res phone-camera ones. It looks a lot nicer than the previous model and is better screwed together. From the front, it has the Ford family look that started with the Galaxy and S-Max, and for the first time in many years, there’s now a consistent grille between Focus, Mondeo and Falcon (E241). It’s a typical Ford strategy to make the base model look more high-line at facelift time, and this is no exception. Plus I love the colour.

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And here’s another one, letting me come up really close as well. Beautiful—and I still wonder if it’s a sign.

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I was booked on a 7.30 p.m. flight last night, which is why I landed at 11 p.m.
   Fog closed Auckland Airport earlier yesterday so I was stuck waiting for a few hours. But at least I got something out of the fog: thanks to it, we managed to get some good shots of the Ford Focus that FoMoCo lent me.
   Other folks weren’t so fortunate.
   I saw a lady travelling with her two daughters from London, England, who had been flying since Wednesday on London–Dubai–Singapore–Auckland–Wellington tickets, and she only faced a delay when getting to New Zealand.
   And Ray Nelson and his wife, heading to Christchurch for a headstone unveiling ceremony, who had been there for 12 hours all told, flying up from Tauranga.
   Ray, his wife and I had plenty of good conversation about Māoridom and language, which fascinated me.
   I also saw a St Mark’s alumna, who filled me in with what’s been happening at our school. It seems there was another principal v. Synod bust-up.
   I won’t name her in case there are repercussions but she is diplomatic and I am reading between the lines rather than attributing the news directly to her.
   All I know is that as an alumnus I am not delighted with the way the Church sometimes treats the school principals, especially one who has done as good a job as Tina Leach.
   Tina and I worked closely together on various school matters ranging from the alumni groups to the yearbook over her term, and I really felt she managed to stretch the budget and offer the kids amazing opportunities.
   I’m going to pay the school a surprise visit as a long-standing old boy and size up this acting principal, and see if I can find out more. But it sure sounds like petty politics to me, the kind that churches only do so well.

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The dance of the custard took it out of us both yesterday. I want a custard, mummy. I want that spoon, no not that spoon, I want to eat it there, no there, no I want to open it. No not that way, No mummy I want a custard. Custard mummy, no not there. there. No mummy- All screeched at ear bleeding pitch. It went on for an hour. And that was after my confiscating said custard after the first five minutes of tantrum. Seth is hard. I forsee great things for this one. But perhaps not a happy marriage.

Also, they've taken to battering each other. Despite separating them, and removing treats, and toys and putting them in seperate rooms, they still pummel each other at every possible opportunity. Every game involves some form of battle. Even the teddies end up brawling.  

They adore each other and can spend hours building dens and airships and pirate ships. Then make guns and swords and wands from anything they can find and 'do battle.' I really am sick of hearing them cry, because bit of rough play has ended in someone getting hurt. I catch myself saying "well, perhaps you'll think on next time" rather than focusing on the hurt. I have been known to throw them both in the garden in desperation and suggest they 'beat each other to death outside so as not to dirty the carpet.' Only the bemused looks on their faces and my grin emphasise the sarcasm. They might not be so shocked the next time I condone violence. Parenting gone wrong in face of extreme and constant noise and violence. I threatened them with Asbo's the other day. Offering to phone the police if they didn't stop flicking each other. Scary thing is, I remember doing this with my sister, and mum saying exactly the same to me. Though we were threatened with the orphanage and borstal.  

Its probably far too much telly, far too many Ben 10 episodes. Probably the bickering that goes on between me and John at all times. Probably the stories we tell them (about pirates, and wizards and magical beasts) are too graphically violent.  It does make me stop and wonder why there has to be a battle or struggle in every narrative. Even Smelly Bill fights with Aunt Bleach.

I am one of those mum's that ban guns and swords. When Ez fashions a lazer gun from a straw, I mantra "guns are dangerous, and seriously hurt and can even kill people. They are not toys, and playing at hurting people is not a fun game" to which he replies "don't worry mummy, its a pretend gun, and I'm only pretending to hurt people."

I am giving them mixed messages. Buzz Lightyear can use his lazer blasters all he likes, but Ezra can't pretend to shoot Woody's pistol.

He recently asked. "Mummy, deading someone is naughty. Why do animals get deaded for meat?" I answered honestly, but could tell my skewed moral code, confused him. Needless to say, he is definitely a veggie in the making.

Being a parent is confusing stuff. Sometimes I wish I could think more clearly and broadly before making decisions about what they learn and how we teach teach them. Honestly, it gets a bit boring sometimes, and sanity dictates I take time out otherwise I would go insane. Perhaps my sanity is not important. I should ditch the blogging and hoovering, if favour of even more constructive game play. As I hear Ezra yelling at Seth, "get out of here, young man. I'm sick and tired of hearing you screech" I could shoot myself in the head.        

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There is a fanatastic sneak preview comic in a drastically cool bag with a badge for person with the best caption for the picture below:

DSC03431

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Given that every QOTD at the moment seems to be about being rude to people, people being mean to us, things we've done wrong, etc, disappointments, I thought I'd hop on the bandwagon and suggest the following:

"When was the last time you burped?"

I think we've covered social gracelessness quite enough for now and so surely we should move onto bodily forms. 

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Don’t you hate it when the place you are staying at has dodgy wifi and no SMTP server? It’s probably the most troublesome wifi I’ve had ever: I can’t connect yet three viruses managed to come through via the wifi system. At least the weather is nice, as is my lovely 2008 Ford Focus 2·0 organized by the lovely Brie Elder of the Ford Motor Company.
   I’m also back at my regular haunt at the Cintra Lane apartments, where I always stayed at the beginning of the century. I went to other properties between 2005 and 2007 out of curiosity, journalistic duty and the Cintra’s owners’ decision not to upgrade to broadband. Now I am back, I notice that they at least have wifi installed, but it’s very patchy.
   Still, better patchy wifi than dial-up, my antivirus (AVG on this laptop) and spyware scanners are up-to-date, and I love having my familiar penthouse view (Richard Gere: ‘It’s the best’) again. Whomever runs the place now has upgraded or replaced the TV, TV channels, DVD player, curtains and carpet.
   Thanks today to Simon and Marie Young for letting me use their office’s server to send off emails today!

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Show us your mother.

Here she is, in 1960 with my oldest brother, looking remarkably like Amy Winehouse.  I normally try and avoid Mothers Day (be it here or in the States) but at the funeral her friends said I had her grace, which wasn't something I'd acknowledged either of us having, but here I think she does.  Maybe one day, I will too.

Mummy

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